Love Knows No Mind
by serensetaserpent
Summary: Hermione recognizes that the light side's victory is no victory at all. The world is in laid to chaos, and she wants to fix it. HGTR--Sorry to those who made my story a favorite, only for me to delete it. I had some fatal errors to fix.
1. Chapter 1

Hermione looked around her, at the destruction. Many of those who were still alive were barely there.

Her heart was breaking. Harry was lying at her feet, still alive, but out for the count. A few feet away, Remus Lupin was in a similar condition. Bellatrix Lestrange, and Neville Longbottom had died in battle against each other. The light had technically won, but with so many deaths, was it truly a victory?

Hermione fumbled for the time turner around her neck. On the night of Dumbledore's murder, she had found it lying on her bed under a sound concealment charm, with a note in the headmaster's quirky scrawl. It had only told her to use it when all hope was lost. She turned the hourglass once…twice…thrice, until she lost count, and she kept spinning the little gold crank, and she didn't stop until she was passed out.

She woke up in the Hospital Wing with the curtains drawn. Had she gone back? Had she broken her turner? She desperately grabbed for the chain, and sighed in relief when she saw it wasn't damaged.

Gingerly, she lifted herself out of the bed and made to open the drape around her, when it was violently yanked open for her. She gave a shrill shriek and leapt backwards onto the bed, taking a defensive stance. She didn't recognize the face in front of her. She was middle aged, and she wore a medi-witch's robe.

"Who're you?" Hermione gasped.

"Madam Patton, the Hogwarts Hospital Matron." She said softly. "You gave us quite a fright, dropping in the way you did. Fell right out of the sky onto the Slytherin table, in front of Mr. Riddle. We had to cut your clothes off of you because we couldn't tell some of it from your skin. A lot of burns, some of the plastics and glasses were welded into your skin. Gruesome injuries. We kept your clothes, in case you wanted them. I don't know why you would, though."

"How long have I been here? I don't have any burns now…"

"You've been here for two days, and we managed to relieve a majority of your injuries. You'll have a few curse scars, and you'll be sore for a couple of days at worst."

"I need to speak to professor Dumbledore." She gasped. She had landed on Tom Riddle's plate a few days ago, looking war torn. "Not Headmaster Dippet?"

"No. Dumbledore. Now." She probably sounded rude. She didn't really care all that much.

"I'm already here, Daisy. If you'll give us some time, please?" She nodded curtly and turned away, and Dumbledore cast a silencing charm around the bed. "First and foremost, I'll need your name, dear." He said kindly.

Hermione hesitated. "My name is Hermione Granger." She muttered. Whatever she said, her situation probably couldn't get much worse. Falling out of the sky in front of a power-hungry maniac didn't sound like the best thing that could have happened to her on her newfound mission. She wasn't even quite sure what her mission was yet. She had a lot to figure out.

"Ms. Granger, how did you get here?"

"I…I turned back time, and I landed here." Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "I'm from 1997."

"Oh dear. You've gotten yourself into quite a fix. It's 1944 now. Well, we'll register you here under a new name, and have you sorted. Then we'll just…let you do what you came to do."

"You're not going to ask me what that something is? I could seriously alter the timeline."

"I trust you, and what happens, happens. It will all turn out for the best," He sighed. "I will give you some money to go buy clothes in Hogsmeade. Then we'll get you settled in a private room."

"First can I go up to the Room of Requirement? I might be able to get some of my possessions. That's where the Gryffindors from my time stored all of their stuff after the first attack."

"It don't see why not. It's worth a shot." Dumbledore smiled. Hermione had missed that smile, and she smiled back sadly. She lifted herself out of the bed and pulled on the plain black robe that Dumbledore held out to her. She made her way over to the door, and paused.

"I'll be ready in a few minutes." She sighed, looking around at the Hospital wing in all of it's stark white glory. Back home, the walls were singed, and the feeling panicked, whereas here, everything was pristine, and everything about the room was soothing.

She walked through the maze of corridors on autopilot, barely taking any of the portraits or passers-by into account. That is, until she crashed into one, and he was _solid_. He caught her and righted them both before they lost their balance. "Hey, be careful. Oh. You're the girl who fell onto Tom's dinner plate." Hermione looked up into the cold, smirking eyes of Draco Malfoy. She would have dismissed it, but to Hermione's knowledge, Draco wouldn't be born for at least forty more years. This was Draco's grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy, one of the first inner circle members.

"Get off of me." She intoned coldly. He raised his eyebrows, but complied, smirk falling. "If you'll excuse me, I'm in a bit of a rush." She pushed Abraxas out of the way.

When she wound up outside of the Room of Requirement, she wanted to slap somebody. There were so many _happy_ people. Loud, obnoxious, stupid HAPPY people, who kept referring to her as "the girl who fell on Tom's dinner". It was a pain.

There was a door waiting for her, and she smiled when she saw the inscription above the handle. "Hic recubo capitale liberum of Leo , quod hic they mos reperio refugium.". She whispered. It meant 'Here lie the possessions of the children of the lion, and here they will find refuge'. She yanked the door open and her eyes glittered when she saw everything as she had left it back home, at least in this room.

She crossed to her trunk and cast a featherweight charm on it, then easily lifted it out the door.

Dumbledore was waiting for her outside the room, and he was carrying a bag. "Follow me, Ms. Grauel, and I'll show you to your room." So he had found her a name. She smiled. Dumbledore was always a step ahead of her. He lead the way, winding into alcoves that she never knew existed. "The rooms that you are about to inhabit are equivalent to those of the head students. There is a private laboratory, a kitchen, a small library as for a private collection, bathroom, and a common room. It conjoins to the head rooms, so that if you should need assistance, you shall receive it."

"Wow." They entered the her common room, and her face lit up. Dumbledore pulled the Sorting Hat from within his robes and placed it gently upon Hermione's head.

_ Hermione Granger. You're not supposed to be here. _If the Sorting Hat could smirk, she had a feeling that it would be doing just that.

_ I know._

_ Well, since you are, might as well put you where you belong. Hufflepuff is too soft for your background, and while you're intelligent enough for Ravenclaw, you're more cunning and brave than they are. Gryffindor is what you were, but not again, you've changed too much to stay in the same house. SLYTHERIN._

"What?" Hermione whispered. Slytherin? She was a Gryffindor. The room around her changed as the Sorting Hat called it's decree.

The couches became a soft, black leather, and the carpet was a dark green. The white room changed, and rich greens, slivers, golds, and blacks weaved themselves into the room, exactly the way Hermione would have decorated it.

"Wow."

"All and any books you need, _no matter what genre, type, or level of material,_ will be in your library. Your favorites will stay there as long as you want them. Your kitchen is fully stocked, and there," He pointed at a portrait of the four founders. "Is the portrait that will lead to the Head student's rooms. The password is Trust."

"Alright. I'll just get settled, and I'll come down for dinner soon."

"As you wish. Helena Hermione Grauel of Tuscany, welcome to Hogwarts." And he exited. She smiled. She had missed the old man. She floated her bag up to her room and dropped it at the foot of her bed. Her bed was a lavish king sized bed, fitted with beautiful, freshly pressed, green and black linens. The bedside table was a polished Ebony, and the floor was a soft, rich black carpeting. This place was a palace.

She leaned down and opened her trunk. It was empty. She swore. What had happened? She crossed to the closet, suspicious. Sure enough, the contents of her trunk were neatly hung up or folded in the closet. She grinned, and picked out an outfit with painstaking care. Her skirt displayed her legs up to mid-thigh, and her top buttons on her perfect white shirt were undone. She wore a simple pair of closed-toed black heels. She was probably looked like a trollop in accordance with the time period, but it was the best of what little she had.

She looked at herself in the mirror, and decided that she would dress herself up. She straightened her hair and she put on some make up.

When she arrived at the doors to the great hall, everyone was already inside. She walked in slowly, and made her way towards the front of the hall.

"Students, please give a warm welcome to Ms. Helena Grauel, she prefers to be called Hermione, and she's been sorted into Slytherin."

There was enthusiastic applause from the Slytherins, and reserved, polite cheering from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. The Gryffindors didn't even twitch. She rolled her eyes at their boorish behavior. Gryffindors _could_ be very rude.

She cautiously made her way down to the Slytherin table, looking for an empty seat, since all of them were wearing friendly faces. She sat between Abraxas, and a boy around her age with shaggy black hair. This had to be Orion Black, for his resemblance to Sirius was uncanny. He confirmed her suspicions, and indicated his twin brother down the table, to be Cygnus. Across from her, a tall boy sat, surveying her. Even sitting, she could tell that he was around 6 feet tall, probably 17, and very clearly the one guy that every girl at the school threw their panties at. Unlike Abraxas and Orion, he didn't introduce himself, and neither Abraxas nor Orion introduced him either. She paid him no mind. When the food appeared, she finally realized how hungry she was. The boys wanted to back away as she piled food onto her plate. She felt insatiable, and the more she ate, the hungrier she felt. She could feel the boy across from her looking at her, and she realized that she must look like a barbarian. She was too hungry to really care. When she was finally full, everyone at the Slytherin table was shooting her disgusted glances,

"Were you hungry?" Orion asked. Abraxas snorted into his food.

"A little."

"That was disgusting." A girl sneered. She was sitting next to the silent boy.

"I think you're rather charming. Unafraid of expectations. And she's not disgusting, she's hungry. Honestly Druella, sometimes you're so rude." The silent one spoke.

"Oh my god, you talk!" She exclaimed with false excitement. He chuckled. She had guts.

"So, what classes are you taking, Hermione?" He asked politely. He raised his fork to his mouth, his eyes never leaving her face.

"I'm taking all NEWT level courses. Transfiguration, Potions, Charms, Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, and Defense Against the Dark Arts." She informed him.

"Those are all very difficult courses." He warned. She bristled. "Not to offend, I'm just giving you a heads up. I'm sure that if you're taking the classes in the first place, you're more than capable." He smiled at her. She examined him closely, taking in his strong jaw and perfect cheekbones. His lips weren't too thin, but they weren't fat either. Ron's were fat. It was like kissing a marshmallow. His eyes were dark, and they were constantly calculating.

"Well thanks." She smiled thinly. He chuckled again, and she raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"You're very…on guard." He explained. "You'll come to trust us. Slytherins take care of their own. We're like a family."

She smiled tightly, her eyes sweeping the table. She had seen that. They were a family against every other family on campus. "Well, I'm assuming that family calls each other by their names. You know mine, would you do the honor, and grace me with yours?"

He reached his hand across the table, and his smile widened as she took it. "Tom Riddle, Head Boy."

Hermione's heart froze. Tom Riddle, whose dinner she had landed in. Voldemort was sitting across from her. She thanked Merlin that she was a good actress.

"Pleasure to meet you, Tom." She found it ironic that the Devil's name felt so good as it rolled off her tongue. Or that the devil's smile was so beautiful. She could tell why he had so many followers. He was a very disarming person.

She was faced with a ray of hope. He had killed, but he was still salvageable. She wasn't sure, but she believed that his soul had only split once so far. His followers were definitely established, however, and the quiet fear and respect permeated the air around the table, and her level of 'impropriety' with their leader had created a feeling that could have been cut with a knife, weighed, and sold to the highest bidder.

Hermione had a feeling that she was supposed to feel something, other than the obligatory flash of fear. Right now, he seemed harmless. Kind of.

"So, I hear I landed in your dinner a few days ago." She smiled at him, laying on as much charm as she could. Tom nodded.

"Yeah, you looked beat up. Like someone killed you, brought you back, then left you for dead." He deadpanned. "I think you're the first person who has ever actually scared me." Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I hear you're Italian. You don't have an accent."

"I'm originally from England. We moved because my mum wanted to live in Italy. One of her dreams. I've always wanted to come to Hogwarts, so when I set my safety portkey, I had it send me here. I decided that since she was dead, it was time to stop following her dreams and it was time to start following mine." She patted herself on the back for her quick thinking.

He nodded, accepting her story. "I think it's about time that we take the first years to bed, everybody. Miranda and I need to do our rounds, and then I'll come down to the common room."

"What? Why?" Hermione asked. "Don't you have your own rooms? And how long have the first years been in school?" He considered her for a long moment, calculating his next words.

"Like I said, we take care of our own. The older Slytherins get together with the younger Slytherins to discuss issues and concerns, and how to address them. The only question is knowing which group you'll be in. You're new, so are you going to be treated like a first year?"

"Definitely not. I don't need that much help." She responded firmly. She softened bit. "But I'll be sure to let you know if I need anything." He nodded at her, and took one last swig of his pumpkin juice, before standing in a sweeping gesture. He walked around the table until he was by her side, and he took her hand, brushing a light kiss to her knuckles.

"It was lovely meeting you. I'll see you in the morning."

And he was gone.

Author's Notes:

Grauel- pronounced 'Growl', as in a lioness 'growl's.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I realize that her clothes are too slutty for the time period, and I'm not trying to change her character (too much, because face it, she's a prude). Realize that she doesn't have period-appropriate clothes (yet). There's a method to my madness, I promise.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione made her way up to her rooms slowly, with a drag in her step.

Tom Riddle was one of the most charming people she had ever met. At least she knew why he had so many followers. She whispered the password to her room, and slipped inside quietly.

She slipped under the covers of her giant bed and curled into a ball, feeling alone. Crookshanks wasn't there to curl up next to her, and the people who were being so kind to her here were the people who had tried (or brought up children who had tried) to kill her back home. She couldn't really get close to any of them, knowing what they would do in the future.

She fell asleep, knowing that tomorrow would be the LONGEST first day of classes she had ever endured.

Breakfast was long enough. She had consciously been at the school for less than a day, and the Gryffindors were already trying to sabotage her. It had taken her forever to realize that someone had charmed her clothes into ridiculous, vibrant colors, and people had been laughing at her since she entered the hall. She was so grateful that Abraxas had put her out of her misery and told her about the spell.

There were still people whispering about her, wondering where she had come from. She could tell that they were all speculating on her magical skill. They probably even had betting pools on how fast she would crack under pressure from her course load.

"Good morning, Hermione." Tom gracefully dropped himself into the seat in front of her. "I just realized, you're not taking Divination. If you don't believe it, you can just pretend, you know. It's a good way to catch up on sleep, then you can say you went into a trance or something." Tom smirked, and Hermione couldn't help but laugh.

Abraxas leaned over and whispered in her ear. "He's being serious. That's what he does." Hermione stopped laughing instantly, and looked at Abraxas, then at Tom, shock evident on her face.

"I do. I don't get much time to sleep at night, what with Abraxas' dalliances with stupid, wanton Hufflepuffs." Tom sneered.

"Touche, Tom, Touche. You've saved my ass more times than I've even _touched_ a woman." He hailed the dark haired boy. Hermione laughed again; a pretty bell like noise that easily attracted the ears of the nearby male population. She was immediately reminded of her wardrobe. She looked like a slut in comparison to the rest of the students. They probably took her for a ditzy blonde, who was in over her head with all the N.E.W.T. courses she was taking.

They had something else coming.

"I'll consider joining divination." She promised. She picked a scone off a platter in the center of the table, and buttered it meticulously, not paying attention to Orion Black as he approached the table and picked up the pieces of paper that were sliding out of her bag.

"What do you have there, Orion?" Tom asked, looking at the heavily inked paper. Hermione whipped around and blanched when she saw what she had in his possession. She probably over-reacted, but she lunged at him, tackling him to the ground and viciously yanking the papers out of his hand.

"Don't look through my stuff." She spat. She hastily stuffed the papers back in her bag. "I'm going to talk to Professor Dumbledore about Divination, and then I'm going to class." She turned a scathing glare onto Orion. "And if I ever see you looking through my stuff again, I'll be plucking grapes." She looked down at his crotch, then smirked wickedly. "Or, in your case, raisins." She flounced away with a mild air of triumph about her.

Orion stared after her, impressed. "What were those papers, Orion?" Tom demanded.

"Sheet Music, Tom. Hand-written." He was still staring after the new girl.

"Good Morning, Professor." She smiled as she approached the Staff table.

"Good Morning, Ms. Grauel." Professor Dumbledore greeted her warmly. "How may I help you?"

"Is it possible to join N.E.W.T. level Divination? It's a fascinating subject, even if it isn't performed properly most of the time." Dumbledore nodded without even thinking about her inquiry. He clearly trusted her. "Thanks, sir."

"Have a good day, Ms. Grauel." He called after her as she flitted out of the Great Hall. It was only once she had left the hall that she realized that she had volunteered to have a full schedule in accordance with the Dark Lord's. She wanted to bang her head on the wall for her idiocy.

"Going to Potions?" Tom's cool voice drifted up her spine, waking every nerve in her body.

"Uh, yeah. Dumbledore's putting me in Divination." Tom gave her a steady look, before gently taking her by the shoulders and leading her down the hallway towards the potions classrooms.

"You really should start relying on Professor Slughorn, Hermione. He is, after all, our appointed head of house. He's here to help you." His voice was cool, if not chilling, and his grip was strong, if not harsh.

"Of course. I've just known Dumbledore longer. I'll come to terms with Slughorn in good time. Aren't we going to his class right now?" Tom nodded. "There. I'll be a complete kiss ass, just for you." He smirked.

"It's a difficult class to crack, Hermione. I'm the only person in the class with a perfect score. Most people just can't brew to Slughorn's expectations." It was her turn to smirk.

"I'm sure I'll be fine. You worry about yourself." When they arrived at the classroom, Hermione turned to Tom. "Would you do me the honor of being my partner, and showing me the ropes?" She looked up at him, schooling her face to convey a look of pleading. Inside, she wanted to laugh so hard that it hurt. He had NO idea.

"But of course." He smiled at her. "As long as you're alright with sitting at the front of the classroom."

She smiled and started walking. "I try not to sit anywhere else."

They settled into a work station at the front of the classroom, and Tom began to set everything up. She watched him, surveying his every move, noting that everything in his workspace had a place.

"Why are you watching me?" He murmured.

"Looking at your technique. You're so…perfect? I don't want to use that word. Especially since, emotionally, that's not true."

"How do you mean?"

"You never show any emotion, except amusement or anger, and even then it's in very limited, controlled amounts. I have a distinct feeling that you think that covering up your emotions leads to power through lack of weakness."

"Very insightful analysis." He smirked.

"Shut up." She sighed, and slowly went to work setting up her part of the work station. The rest of the class slowly filed in, and started to set up their stations as well.

"Class, if you would set up while I talk, we can get through the time much faster. Today, we will be brewing a Ministry approved love potion. It is very impotent, and the effects wear off faster than any other potion. Can anyone guess which potion I am speaking of?" Clearly, no one expected Hermione to raise her hand, because when she did, people started murmuring. Tom was the only other person who raised his hand, and he looked fairly surprised as well. "Someone other than our Tom is volunteering? Please, young lady, tell the class what we'll be brewing."

"Sangue Cantante d'Amour." She gave Slughorn a winning smile, and Tom looked impressed. At the very least, she knew her basics. She wasn't like every other pureblood trophy wife at the school. She was one of the only three girls who were taking a full schedule of N.E.W.T. courses, but there was still time for her to drop out. That's what the other fifteen did.

"Very good. Ten points to Slytherin. Now, can anyone tell me _exactly _what it does and how it works." Hermione's hand shot up again. "Well, obviously our new student has done more of her reading than any of you have. Ms. Grauel, if you please?"

"In order for Sangue Cantante d'Amour to work, the recipient's hair, as well as the hair of the giver, must be added to the potion. If the potion is particularly potent, then the hair of the recipient isn't necessary. The potion introduces one set of DNA to another, and makes the two separate pieces of DNA yearn for each other. Usually, the potion takes just enough time for…fornication…to occur." She blushed as she said it, and many around her chuckled. Tom was surprised that she had given such a precise and well informed answer.

"And 20 more points to Slytherin. Tom, Hermione, I'm glad you decided to partner up with each other. I'll have marketable potions from you two!" He exclaimed jovially. Hermione grinned, but wanted desperately to roll her eyes. Tom looked miffed.

"How did you know all that? Been practicing love potions, Grauel?" He hissed. She looked at him, surprised. Apparently he didn't like intellectual competition.

"No. I just read a lot. It's a hobby of mine." She smiled charmingly, but inside, she was panicking. He suddenly going to dislike her because she was smart? That could be highly problematic. He huffed and turned his shoulder to her, effectively dismissing her. She could feel her irritation level rise, but she forced it to remain below the surface.

She set to work preparing the ingredients; shredding lacewings and mincing daisy root. When she crushed the firetoad spleens instead of chopping them, Tom yanked her hand away.

"What the hell are you doing? Trying to lower my grade in the class?" He hissed. She shook her head. "Then why the hell are you crushing perfectly fine firetoad spleens?" She pulled her wrist from his grip and made a small noise of indignation.

"The point is to extract as much liquid from the spleen as possible. If I'm wrong, we can correct it, alright? We have more than enough time to brew the potion twice."

"Yes, but I don't _want _to brew it twice, I want to leave early. That's what I always do." He groaned.

"You'll leave earlier with crushed spleens. Trust me." She added the ingredients to the potion, stirring this way and that as she went, and smirked when their potion was the perfect shade of crimson. "And, you're welcome. Professor Slughorn!" She called.

"No wait, test it f…We're…_done_…Professor." He growled. She wanted desperately to giggle. He was actually upset that she was right. He had wanted to TEST it. On who? Each other? Not likely.

"And it's perfect!" He clapped his fat hands together, and scurried up to his desk and pulled out bottles. Hermione decided that she had never met a greedier man. She wondered briefly whether or not student exploitation was illegal.

"I told you so." She sang under her breath. She could hear him swearing under his breath and wanted desperately to laugh. "Don't worry, I'm worse with Divination. I get too angry to even fake a prediction."

He looked over at her, irritated. "You're stellar in every other one of your classes? That's hard to believe." He snorted. "I'm leaving, Professor." He called to the front of the room. Slughorn waved him goodbye, and Tom strolled out of the room.

"You're free to leave too, Ms. Grauel." He called to her merrily. She quickly stuffed her stuff into her bag and made a beeline for the exit.

"Tom!" She yelled after him. "Tom! Hey! Wait up!" She started to run, because he wasn't heeding her calls. "What the hell is wrong with you!" She gasped when she finally caught up to him.

"What's wrong with me? Nothing. I'm going to the library." He gave her a cursory glance as he continued to stride.

"Do you mind if I come with you?" She asked hopefully. She was acting like she was completely obsessed with him, and in a way she was. Just not in the way that she was showing the world.

"Yes." He snapped. "I need to be alone to study."

"You won't even notice I'm there! I promise!" She jumped in front of him, halting him in his tracks. Then, she brought out her best wide-eyed pout. Inside she was grinning. She had yet to meet a man who hadn't cracked under the unique pouting technique that (non-other than) Lavender Brown had taught her.

He stared her down for a few moments, and then let out a frustrated sigh. "I will _definitely _know you're there." He grumbled. "Come on." She grinned in satisfaction and followed the Dark Lord to be through the winding halls to the library. "I always sit in the back." He informed her as he pulled her into the depths of her beloved library, and she grinned. The back of the library was where she was most comfortable. Her heart stopped when he lead her into the alcove that she had been using for her entire schooling career.

"Very secluded. Hiding?" She asked, looking around. It would be exactly the same in fifty years. Not a single book would change it's place in that time, and the area would remain pristine.

"Yes." He replied shortly. A giggle spilled from her lips. "I don't like being disturbed while I study." He growled.

"I understand completely. My friends back home…all they really understood was Quidditch, and that's all they would talk about. They would try to engage me in the conversation while I was studying, and I wouldn't get a damn thing done." She sighed wistfully. She dropped her school bag into an empty chair at the four person desk.

"What are you going to do?" He asked her tentatively. She smiled and reached out a hand to her left, and he stared in shock as a book from the shelf loosed itself from it's confinements, and gently floated into her hand. "Wandless magic?"

"No, Library magic. I have a title that I desire, and the library will deliver it to me if I'm close enough. The libraries of the wizarding world shift all the time. Rather like our staircases, except in a more convenient fashion."

"Where on earth did you learn that?"

"My father's library. It's quite common. I'm surprised that you didn't know. You seem studious enough. Haven't books ever found you when you need them?"

"No."

"Oh." She looked away sheepishly. She wondered briefly if books could sense pure evil and bed intentions. "Sorry, I'll let you study." She dropped down into a chair, and tucked her feet in beneath her.

He sat across from her, posture stiff. She was clearly a talented witch, but that's all she was: a witch. A woman. He pulled a book from his bag, and cracked it open at the bookmark, willing himself to read instead of studying her every move.

"Tom. Tom, it's been an hour, we have to go to Defense." Hermione whispered across the table. She hastily shoved the book she was holding back into it's shelf.

"An hour?" He looked at his watch, shocked. "Well then we better go." He stuffed his book into his bag, and took her wrist in his hand with a firm, almost bruising grip, and proceeded to pull her out of the library and through the corridors.

"You're hurting me." She snapped. He smirked.

"You'll get over it."


	3. Chapter 3

They sat at a desk at the front of the classroom, Hermione silently glowering and massaging her arm. Tom was beside her, blankly staring at the professor, waiting for him to start his lecture. Hermione was fairly sure that Professor Blackburn was arranging quills on his desk, or something equally as inane.

"Does he ever actually START the lesson? Or do we sit here like morons for an hour?" She hissed. He looked over at her, amusement evident on his face.

"He waits for a while, to make sure that everyone is here, and then he locks the door. Those who are locked out need an excuse, or else he doesn't give them credit for the day." He explained. Hermione raised her eyebrows. That seemed harsh.

"Do you know what we're doing today?"

"Every day, he starts the lesson with a lecture on a new spell and its appropriate use, and then we duel. He grades on the quality of application of the spell."

Hermione was surprised. That had to be the most (theoretically) effective lesson plan she had ever heard. "That's interesting. I don't think I've ever heard of a Hogwarts professor doing that before."

"It usually doesn't, but since this is an advanced class, that's how it goes. Lessons sink in when you have to survive through them, according to Blackburn." Hermione nodded her head in understanding.

"Alright everyone. In light of our new student," He nodded his head at Hermione. "We will be reviewing instead of adding."

"I can keep up!" Hermione insisted loudly. "Don't make changes for me, please."

"We've been doing very advanced spells. You might want to take the review sessions." Tom whispered to her. She bristled.

"I'm sure that I can hold my own just fine, thanks." She muttered back. "Please, continue the planned lesson, professor. If I need help to catch up, I'm sure that Tom will help me." She smiled sweetly. Tom growled.

"If you're sure, Ms. Grauel, I'd be happy to continue the class as planned." He turned to address the rest of the class. "Today we will be dabbling in darker spells; ones meant to subdue the other dueling participant for more than just a few moments. There are spells that require a 'safe word', where ONLY at the caster's command will the spell dissipate."

Hermione snorted, and Tom looked at her, eyebrows raised. "What's so funny?" She smiled at him, amusement in her eyes.

"These are the spells that you think I need help with reviewing? Child's play." She laughed under her breath. Harry hadn't known these spells, but she had invented a fair few of them for her own use.

Professor Blackburn droned for ten minutes, introducing simple, yet effective spells that required safe words, before pulling a hat out of his desk. "I will be drawing the first two students to duel each other. Remember every password spell that you use is going to earn credit, and the final winner will not have to attend classes for the rest of the week, so that the rest of the class can catch up. There are no limitations to the duels, save the unforgivable curses, which are NEVER allowed."

He reached into the hat and as if by instinct, Tom and a boy with red hair who wore Gryffindor robes stood and walked to the dueling platform. "Mr. Riddle, Mr. Prewett, you know the rules." Blackburn turned up his nose at them as if already expecting foul play. Hermione couldn't help but giggle. If only he knew what the Slytherin in front of him was going to do with his life.

She watched interestedly as Tom and Prewett walked away from each other, though Prewett looked afraid to turn his back to Tom at all. She didn't blame him. Tom looked unnaturally comfortable on the dueling platform, only telling Hermione that he was an experienced dueler. Tom and Prewett bowed to each other, and Hermione giggled again when Prewett didn't put his head all the way down. His eyes never left the back of Tom's head. As soon as Tom looked up, Prewett fired the first curse. Hermione narrowed her eyes when Blackburn did nothing. That was against the rules in a formal duel.

Tom deflected the first curse and easily stepped out of the way of the second, before flicking his wand in Prewett's direction. Hermione instantly recognized the wand movements as that of a complicated disarming spell. She was proven correct when Prewett was knocked backwards, and his wand was launched into the air. When Prewett looked up and Tom's cloak caught on fire, she realized that they weren't dueling formally. They were practicing for combat dueling. Tom quickly extinguished his robes and stunned Prewett.

"Prewett down, Tom wins. Tom, if you'd please pick your next opponent out of the hat." He reached into the hat, and a Slytherin girl stood and walked to the platform. "Ms. Black, you know the rules."

"I do, professor." She smirked. She gave Tom a predatory look. Tom gave her a disgusted one.

"Control yourself, Walpurga." He sneered. She only raised her perfectly plucked eyebrow before bowing low. Tom merely nodded. Within minutes, Walpurga disarmed, stunned and tied, and she had an apple in her mouth."

"Very amusing, Mr. Riddle. If you don't mind terribly, I want to have Ms. Grauel duel Mr. Malfoy. I need to assess her capabilities before the end of the class."

"Sure." And he stepped off the platform. He walked straight to Hermione's side and whispered in her ear. "He has a penchant for small dismembering hexes that won't get him into too much trouble. He has a tendency to fake left then curse right, and he can't do wandless magic for crap."

"Thanks, I think I got this." She smiled at him, appreciating the gesture but curious as to the motive. Why would he want her to succeed? Why would he care at all? Abraxas looked anxious. "Afraid to duel a girl?"

"Afraid to _cream_ a friend." He shot back.

"Don't worry about me. I can hold my own well enough."

"If you're sure, I won't go easy on you."

"I wouldn't want you to, Abraxas. I like a challenge. The question is whether or not you can give me one."

"I can definitely give you one." He murmured to her. He bowed, though not low enough to show respect. She did the same, and smirked when he narrowed his eyes at her. Before he even raised his wand, Hermione disillusioned herself. She ducked as he threw his first hex at her. Then, as promised, he faked left. Hermione simply dropped to the ground and fired a stinging hex at his hand. Hermione didn't expect him to hold onto his wand, but it earned him a little more respect. More inexperienced wizards would have dropped it and clutched their arm, allowing her the opportunity to bind their hands. Instead, he fired off a lip-locking hex, completely disabling her mouth. The counter-curse was a verbal spell. She narrowed her eyes and moved quickly towards him. He didn't realize HOW quickly until she was standing right in front of him, still disillusioned. Before she could do anything else, he levitated an inkwell from Walpurga's desk and exploded it over her head.

She racked her brain for a nonverbal spell that would give her the upper hand. Her wand cut through the air and immediately boils sprang from Abraxas' previously flawless skin. He yelled in pain and clutched his face, wand (unfortunately) still in hand. With her opponent momentarily distracted, Hermione flicked her wand upwards, and in an instant, Abraxas was hanging from his ankle in mid air. Tom narrowed his eyes in his seat as he watched Hermione as she finished off the duel by yanking the wand from Malfoy's flailing hands. As soon as Hermione let him down, Abraxas removed the silencing curse from Hermione and shook her hand, clearly impressed.

"You took it easy on me anyways, Abraxas." Hermione pouted. "And now you owe me a shirt." She looked down on the ink stained mess that had been a crisp, white oxford just a moment before.

"Alright. But I didn't take it easy on you. You owe me some ego. Malfoys don't lose to women."

"They do now." She smiled at him cheekily and he smiled back, though the smile was thin and it's wearer was obviously irritated.

"Well then, Ms. Grauel if you'd please pick your next opponent out of the hat?"

Hermione reached her hand into the black hat and looked to the black haired boy who was rising from his seat.

She bowled down her next five opponents with no difficulty. They were inexperienced, and Hermione assumed that it was partially because they were in Gryffindor. She only started to worry when she pulled Walpurga back up to the platform. Walpurga seemed to hate her from the get go, and Hermione didn't particularly want to aggravate her. Fortunately, Hermione won that duel as well. Her face went white when she pulled the next opponent from the hat.

Tom was glowering at her as he stepped onto the platform. It was as though she had personally offended him. He was radiating suspicion and distrust and malice. "Are you okay?" She whispered to him.

"No." He growled. Hermione raised her eyebrows, but bowed. Most people leaned forward when Tom only bowed halfway. That was a sign of disrespect, and it was intentional. He fired the first curse before her head was even up. Trained in combat, Hermione heard the wand as it slashed through the air, and she collapsed to the ground and rolled out of the way. As soon as she got to her knees, she fired a ripping hex at him, and smiled in grim satisfaction when his forearm was sliced. He proceeded to set her hair on fire (not really) and disarmed her while she scrambled to put it out. He turned to face the class, believing the duel to be over.

Then he got pegged in the back of the head by a rock. He looked around, shocked.

"You're throwing rocks at me?" He asked disbelievingly. She smirked and pointed at the wall, concentrating. Tom saw the cracks form at watched the stone break apart. Then he saw the rock flying towards his nose. He dropped, and Hermione dove for her wand. Tom kicked it out of the way. "Rictusempra!" He yelled. She broke out laughing and writhing on the floor.

"F..f…fini..te Incan..tatum!" She cried through her uncontrollable laughter. She leapt to her feet as soon as the hex had worn off and lunged for Tom, who was about to curse her again. She knocked him over, then rolled towards her wand to pick it up. She felt a jolt of gratitude when it was back in her hands.

Tom had gotten back to his feet and was making his way towards her. His wand movements suggested some sort of movement-locking hex, and she put up a locomotive shield.

"You didn't strike me as a rictusempra kind of person, Tom!" She called to him.

"I'm not."

"Don't change your battle strategy!" She yelled. That explained why he was catching her so far off guard. She had studied him in his natural fighting stance, then he had changed and thrown her off of her expectations.

"Fine then." And he hurled a boiling hex at her. She cried out in surprise and pain as her blood heated. She had been under this curse once before, and she knew to cast a cooling spell, even though the curse would last where the cool spell wouldn't. She would have to re-apply it throughout the duel.

"FUCK you." She snarled before hollering: "Serpensortia!" She grinned at the frown that spread across Tom's face. She knew he was a parseltongue, but no one else did, and it would only hinder him to reveal it now, especially after Myrtle's death. She however could speak a marginal amount of elvish, but it was just enough to know battle commands, and elvish was a universally known language (save among humans). "Eylack mahir!" She purred to the snake, which immediately coiled and struck.

The snake made contact with Tom's lower leg, pumping venom into his bloodstream. Tom growled in frustration and severed the poor beast's head. "Where the fuck did you learn that?" He hissed angrily. He could feel his leg numbing.

"That's surely none of your business." She grinned. "Expelliarmus." His wand flew out of his hand. But she suspected that was because his arm had already gone numb from the venom. '_Levicorpus'_ she thought, a grin still spread across her face. He was lifted into the air by his ankle. And then immediately dropped. Hermione frowned. Tom was murmuring under his breath, and she realized that he was re-purifying his blood. How he got down from her petty jinx, she had no idea.

"Diffindo." He growled as soon as he looked up. Hermione let out a small shriek as her blouse ripped and blood welled up from her newly formed gash.

"Relashio!" She yelled before continuing relentlessly. "Inflamare! Bombarda!"

Tom met her blow for blow, and both of their curses got darker and more dangerous. Blackburn looked steadily more and more anxious.

Then, at the same time Hermione yelled "Sectumsempra!", Tom yelled "Sectum Lacertus!" And both of them were knocked backwards, bleeding profusely, but still conscious.

"That's enough! It's a draw!" Blackburn hollered. Hermione staggered to her feet and fixed Tom's injuries, seeing as 'Sectumsempra' had it's own couter-curse, and Severus Snape had technically invented it twenty years later. Tom reluctantly returned the favor. He looked shaken. No one had ever come close to being his equal, and this girl was giving him a run for his money in everything he did. "You're both brilliant duelists, and you shall never be paired again. Or one of you may die." He grumbled.

"Good duel, Grauel." He whispered in her ear once they were sitting next to each other again. "Where you learned those combat skills…I would love to know, but knowing you, I probably won't." He smirked.

"You're right." She said gravely. "Thank you for not prying." She smiled softly at him.

"It's fine." He said, that smirk still firmly in place. It was a surprisingly attractive look for him, or so Hermione thought. She also wanted to stab herself for thinking it.

Tom was considering Hermione heavily. She was incredibly skilled and intelligent for a _witch_, and she had very nearly humiliated him. Part of him was seething, wanting to destroy her. Another part was so intensely curious about her knowledge and skill that he had to fight himself to keep from bombarding her with questions that made him sound obsessed. The final part was inexplicably attracted to this infuriating girl who had latched herself onto him with an iron grip, and then rivaled him in ever subject thus far. He muffled that last part out. Women were distractions and nothing but.

They walked to lunch 'together' which was really more of a coincidence than anything else, since they were both heading to the same place at the same time, and they weren't talking to each other at the time. Hermione sat across from him and next to Orion. Who had apparently drastically ruined his love potion and created a 'horny teenage boy' potion instead and tested it. He immediately started caressing Hermione's leg and suggesting that they go to his dormitory and do the horizontal tango.

A moment later, Orion wasn't sure if he would ever be able to suggest that particular dance to anyone ever again. The entire Slytherin Table burst out laughing at Orion and Hermione (save Tom, who just looked incredibly amused). "Orion, whatever possessed you to come onto a witch who nearly took out our best and baddest?" Abraxas laughed, slapping his companion on the back. Tom suddenly glowered at the blonde boy, who froze and stuttered his apologies. "I didn't mean to say that she would be able to, Tom, I just meant that that duel was wicked! I swear."

Tom shook off his irritation and gave Abraxas a tight smile. "No offense taken, Abraxas." He murmured before taking a swig of his pumpkin juice and standing. "I'll be in the Library." He informed them before sweeping away gracefully.

"I don't know why he ever tells us that. We can NEVER find him." Orion growled. "He's fucking amazing at hiding away in that place."

Hermione grinned. "He also seems very…bipolar. One second he's all charm and wit and the next second he's standoffish and a second later he's menacing, and then he's right back to charm and wit. It's rather dizzying."

Abraxas nodded. "He is subject to mood swings. You have to wait them out. He's charming and witty eighty-two percent of the time, and then the rest is subject to variation. He likes you, though, Hermione. I don't think he's ever offered to partner with someone in potions. He usually leaves it up for grabs."

Hermione nibbled her lower lip. The dark lord _liked_ her. And she could almost say the same about him. _Oh dear lord._


End file.
